The Trouble With Green Eyes
by jumbledjuliet
Summary: Would it be weird to say I find comfort in even the images my mind recycles of her? I could feel myself go crazy for her; I had been crazy for her. They could see it. They watched the raw gazes and breakdowns, but it wasn't for them. They stole our moments from us, and now they're only able to steal mine. Clove/Katniss
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Don't own Hunger Games ayy.**

After ten years of the act of getting up at 5:30 in the morning, Clove still hadn't seemed to grasp an effective sleep schedule. Most Careers were trained like military soldiers at a young age to wake up before the world wakes up to start training. No one would probably be able to guess that the feisty girl who threw deadly knives would be one to drag her blanket out of bed and rush to finish getting ready just to nap a little more. And if anyone asked Clove about her incompetent morning skills, she would deny it until she died or killed whoever was questioning her. The latter was much more probable.

The groggy girl forced her body out of the warm bed. She swore that the sheets hadn't been that comfortable when she had been struggling to fall asleep three hours ago. This week was going to be horrific if she didn't get her act together and get more hours of sleep.

The dark haired Career stumbled towards her lamp, planning for the illumination to help her fully wake up before she dressed.

She hated walking around the house in the shorts and shirt she wore to bed. In her mind it showed laziness, over comfort, and lack of preparation which she could not present by any means to her guardian. Besides showing vulnerability to the other human in the house, she needed to be selected for the reaping. For this, she needed to be a beyond perfect candidate. No slacking. The fact that she was a year younger than required definitely did not make things look any better in her favor.

Pulling her tight training pants over her toned thighs, bright green eyes flicked up to her reflection in the mirror. She groaned at the state of her hair but was satisfied when she pulled her long strands up into a ponytail.

The sixteen year old girl stared at the girl in the mirror, both faces impassive and cold. This was satisfying as well. Her RBF was a key part of her intimidation factor.

There were only a few days left of training before the rest of the week was off, due to the reaping. While one boy and one girl from Clove's level was to be sent off into the games, the rest would continue their training for the next reaping. It was a never ending cycle. If never qualified for the reaping, which many were not, you either waste your gained skill by doing a common job, such as a blacksmith, or you get lucky and qualify to be a peacekeeper. Although that is entirely NOT luck to Clove. Her bitterness towards peacekeepers would land her in her grave before being one.

Her guardian was a peacekeeper; a pilot of the hovercraft, as well, unless called to his duty in District 2.

When Clove was all set to go, she grabbed her worn out bag and ran up the stairs. When she rose from her room in the basement, Kai was already at the table, seemingly not having any intention of making breakfast for Clove as well.

Kai was her guardian. Clove was an orphan, which wasn't uncommon in her district, and guardians volunteer based on how well they think the child has a chance of winning the Hunger Games. Some might find it flattering, but the facts were they were just using you as a way to possibly gain fortune and into the Victor's Village. Clove happened to be picked by Kai, a middle aged man who was said to have killed his wife. The wife had disrupted the peace and Kai's job, being a peacekeeper, was to obliterate any threat to that peace. And he had.

"Morning," Kai grunted as he bit into a piece of bread.

Clove remained silent as always. It's not as if Kai gave a damn. There was a mutual respect between the two but that was all. Clove did what she had to do to become a victor and Kai provided a roof over her head and food. No other bond was existent.

The green eyed girl grabbed some food and watched the time. She left the house at exactly 6:14. It's not that she was a freak with all that stuff, it's just that her life revolved around her training; she had nothing better to do than time her departure and arrival to the minute.

"Give someone a nasty injury today," Kai told her half heartedly without even looking away. Clove was surprised he even took the effort to open his mouth.

"Yup," She quipped before leaving.

Her tired eyes stared at the beautifully crafted pavement as she walked to the training center. A large percentage of District 2's teenagers lived on the campus of the training center since there weren't a lot of houses in the District 2 except for the villages.

Someone had left the heavy door of the gym open so Clove slipped in planning to take a short cut to the center. The gym smelled of cleaning supplies as Clove strode in from the back.

"Looking a little tired there, Clove," Cato sneered with a stupid smirk on his face. He wore it all the time and Clove had wanted to punch it off from the moment she'd met him. It was the type that read, "I'm the shit and I also know that every girl has imagined me naked".

"Fuck off."

Clove normally would ignore him, but today wasn't her day.

"You know you don't have to be so difficult all the time. You can just give in."

Clove raised her eyebrow and stared him down with intense green eyes that had intelligence and a certain wild-like spark behind them.

"Have it your way. We'll have plenty of time for that in the future," Cato supplied cockily, taking her silence the way he wanted to.

"Whatever you say Cato," the brunette made her voice sickly sweet then suppressed to roll her eyes, ditching her attempt to run him into the ground with her eyes.

Cato forced his tongue against his cheek in that stupid smirk and moved on to the other Careers. Clove humored herself by talking to a few of her fellow Careers. Most were shallow and blood thirsty, but who was Clove to judge? Wasn't she the same?

"You won't need those," a girl, who's name Clove hadn't bothered to learn, said out loud.

The knife vest swayed in midair as Clove frowned and placed it back down.

After hours of ruthless training, Clove's mask was cracking. She had no energy to run all of her suicides and they had done no knife training. This week was really not her week. She wanted to drop on the training mat and sleep or cry, either one was fine. On the contrary, Clove hadn't cried in years, but the feeling of wanting to cry was still there, waiting for her to crack. The thing was that she would rather die a painful death than cry in front of anyone, much less any of these people.

Another day of training had passed with only sweat and tense muscles to prove for it. This was Clove's life.


	2. Chapter 2

"I volunteer as tribute," Clove yelled out the four words she had been dedicating her whole life to. Heads cocked in the direction of the brunette in the crowd. The word had already spread that the seventeen year old would be the one to volunteer. It was quite an achievement but no one had expected any less from Clove. As a child she had always ranked the highest whether it was agility, tactic, or her specialty, knife throwing. She could have even been the best knife handler District 2 had ever seen. The only reason she ranked below Cato was due to her size, strength. Of course she thought it was ridiculous that Cato would be rewarded for having good genes and being a guy, but she figured she'd show them how stupid it was to glorify being a muscly, overgrown toddler in the games when she stealthily took everyone out.

District 2 had a lot of negative feedback for the candidates this year. Cato had barely passed his tactic test, but had easily slipped by the other categories. He wasn't extraordinary and if there were a better Career in his year, Cato wouldn't be entering the games this year. But, he certainly looked the part of a victor.

Clove had felt cheated as well. The girls in her year had been lazy during training and had been kicked off, leaving a smaller number of female possible candidates. Her trainer said that she wouldn't have been joining this year. They were saving her as a certainty to win next year, but that had not been able to happen. Clove didn't really know what to think about it. She was having her first ever period of doubt, but if there was anything Clove was good at, it was covering up unwanted feelings.

"Clove Carnigan as our District 2 female tribute," the announcer publicized.

Clove strode through the crowd, it parting and making a neat walkway for her. Every step she took was under close inspection and she knew it. She was so busy making her steps stiff and precise, she didn't even hear the announcer move on to the boy bowl. The name picking was just a formality because everyone knew who was required to volunteer and if anyone besides Cato or Clove dared to volunteer, the repercussions weren't pleasant

Some 17 year old's name was called and a deep, certain voice shouted, "I volunteer."

There both Clove and Cato stand; side by side, looking like a force none of the districts would want to reckon with. At first glance, the slim form of Clove didn't look like a killing machine. But, the longer you looked at her wicked grin and rigid stance, the more you want to take her attention away from you. Cato on the other hand looked as if he was a handsome, cunning boy who grew up throwing knives at squirrels and killing hamsters.

"Take a look at District 2's 74th Hunger Games tributes."

The crowd's applause rumbled throughout their immense assembly building.

"Make us proud and we shall see one of you two again." The sentence sounded like a challenge. It was said with such nonchalance. "Oh one of you is going to die brutally and we'll watch and wait for the other to come back. Or both of you will die and humiliate your district. We'll try again next year, no big deal." Clove was going to be remembered though. She was not going into the games to not make an impact.

* * *

No one came to visit Clove before she left but her trainer. She barely noticed as she sat drilling the wall with her stare.

* * *

"Follow the two guards into the 2nd compartment. You'll go into a room where you will see a brief video on train safety. It's not that important since you're district has made sure to keep our railroad completely safe. We'll meet again in the lounge where the true fun begins. I can't wait for you two to experience Capitol treatment," the escort informed, looking unnaturally perky meanwhile Cato and Clove were trying to separate his soul from his body with their eyes.

This wasn't the first time Clove had been on the Capitol train. Her whole fifth year class had gotten the opportunity to have a school field trip onto the fancy rail transport. This was very rare and Clove wouldn't be surprised if her district were the only ones to do it. District 2 had made been the ones to make the contraption after all.

After seeing the highly dramatic safety video, the two tributes entered the lounge car. Brutus, their mentor who was also one of the best District 2 victors in Hunger Games in history, sat like a statue in an armchair. Clove wasn't interested in the intimidating man, but she bet Cato wanted to ask for an autograph or something, but of course he wouldn't. He wasn't THAT stupid fortunately.

Their escort, Jaax (Clove had surprisingly remembered his name), stood on the other side of the room opposite from Brutus, sipping his hot beverage. Jaax was no doubt attempting to blend into the extravagant pattern on the train walls, though that was impossible because of his cringe-worthy, pink suit. Clove almost laughed out loud when she realized that the Capital born male was frightened of the old District 2 killer.

"You two, did either of you eat yet?" the middle aged man suddenly snapped, surprising even Clove. His voice was rough and evil.

"N-" Clove was about to answer falsely but never even finished.

"Do it. Eat." And he left. Obviously Brutus was a man of many words.

"Try the Lobster Frittata," Jaax chirped and scurried off in the opposite direction Brutus went.

The Lobster whata? What is that?

After a few beets, Cato grabbed one of the pastries and lazed on one of the sofas.

"Fuck yeah," the blonde boy chomped on a muffin and grabbed another. Clove stared mindlessly at how the muffin looked tiny in his enormous hand before briskly walking past him.

"I'm finding my room," Clove mumbled and began her search through the carriages.

She staked her claim in a room with dark crimson walls. It was the last room before the District 2 section ended. She was confused as to what she was exactly supposed to be doing. First of all, she needed sleep so that seemed like a promising decision to make while she awaited the details of her fight to the death.


	3. Chapter 3

There was one twelve year old and one towering giant from District 11. The boy- Thresh, was it? - Looked like the toughest as far as physicality went.

The screen went in and out of shots, showing very detailed views of all of the district's reapings. The image was so defined one could see the pores on the people's faces. Clove loved watching these types of things but the only exciting thing that had happened so far was this dude named Jason from 6 having to be forced onto the stage. Also, the twelve year old from 11's family started crying when she timidly walked to the podium.

Next was District 12's reaping and Cato audibly scoffed as the camera showed the crowd of pale dressed people. They seemed to have attempted to look decent for the reapings just as everyone else.

"As always, ladies first," the announcers exaggerated movements and voice was getting on Clove's nerves.

"Primrose Everdeen."

Heads turned and the camera paused until it identified the girl by the name of Primrose. It zoomed in on a frightened girl until it had to zoom out again to capture another movement from the crowd. An older girl's voice was cracking as she yelled and struggled against the peacekeepers.

"Holy shit," Cato chuckled, "So they aren't robots."

Clove couldn't help but wonder whether District 12 were the real robots as she watched the display of emotions she'd never seen before.

Brutus has a similar reaction, much to everyone's surprise. "Ladies and Gentlemen, the only person from 12 that has any guts since decades ago."

Clove blinked as she watched the girl downright freak out shouting, "I volunteer, I volunteer!"

It was hasty as if it took a while for her panicked mind to realize that that was the only way for them to let the younger girl go.

"District 12. Too irrelevant. Eat your food; you're too damn skinny. You do realize you're going into the arena in days?" Brutus pointed to Clove's plate of assorted meats and said nothing more. Clove suppressed an incredulous glare at the killer.

"What are you, my father?" was Clove's brave rejoinder.

Brutus' lifeless black eyes bored into her green, and Clove found herself feeling as if someone's hands were wrapped around her throat. There wasn't a hint of kindness in the onyx beads. It made Clove smile coyly for a reason even unknown to her. The look was not foreign, and that mere fact brought a demented smile to Clove's face.

"On second thought, it's good you had no children." Clove clipped. She saw Cato's weary side glance at her, but she couldn't care less if she was acting like an idiot. Maybe she was suffering from No-More-Fucks-To-Give Syndrome.

A fire raged behind the killer's eyes, but Clove didn't even look to see it. Swiveling on her feet, she headed back to the crimson room as a blonde boy steps onto the tribute stage. The girl who volunteered for her sister looked directly at the screen, making Clove stop and looked back. Clove had never seen eyes like that. So _full_. Of course it was beyond the seventeen year old to know what that girl was thinking. Where had she been going again?

Brutus' scratchy voice intruded her moment; "I know something that would keep you in your goddamn place, little girl."

Clove stalked stiffly out of the two men's' line of sight…and touch.

* * *

Clove already had no clue what to do with herself. There was nothing to do but let her brain submerge into her toxic thoughts, but Clove Carnigan couldn't allow that.

Free time was her enemy and she did nothing better than kill.

"Where are you going?" Cato said before Clove could even leave the compartment.

"What we can't leave, explore?" the green eyed Career quirked an eyebrow and smirked.

"I'm sure you can manage to stay in our section until we get to the capital. Just sit tight, is that too hard? This trip isn't to explore."

Clove scoffed and folded her arms over her chest.

"Fuck you." But she went back to her room. She didn't want to encounter anyone on the train anyway. A nagging feeling in the back of her brain said otherwise, though.

* * *

The train ride was quick because District 2 was one of the closer districts to the capitol. Cato and Clove were immediately wheeled over to the Remake Centre to be primped to the Capitol's standards.

Clove's prep team squabbled over how dark her under-eye circles were and Clove snapped at them, saying they should try waking up at the time she does every morning. She didn't know why she'd been so defensive. Appearance was never something she worried about unless it was whether her body was in shape for training. Clove was feeling the foreign feeling of insecurity until one woman animatedly raved what a pretty girl she was. The rest were all very quick to agree, much to Clove's surprise. This whole experience was very overwhelming because Clove had never seen people act as all these people do. No one is cold or closed off because they can't get too close with someone they're competing against. She didn't think she'd ever seen such an array of emotions in such a short time before.

People said capitol people were loony, but these people didn't even act human. Plus that District 12 girl must also have problems with the way she was losing it.

"I always knew District 2 was crazy! Waking up at 5:30! Imagine that," one woman squawked.

"That's preposterous"

"Do they even feed you," a technicolored man sighed dramatically, not even expecting an answer from Clove.

"Did you see the boy from 2? What a hunk. Reminds my of my baby Finnick from the 65th games."

"Oh my goodness, you're so right. Clove, dear, you're perfect for insight. What's he like? Victor material? Should we bid on him? Is he charming?"

Clove gave them a warning glare, which shut them up right away to continue putting a coat of black nail polish on her newly cleaned cuticles.

"District 2 girls," Clove heard the man say to one of the woman under his breath.

"At least she's better than the girl with the serpent teeth."

Clove took this as the time to take out her knife that had been given back to her and to start carving people with their heads cut off into the leather dentist chair she sat in.

The group of Capitalists stopped and stared at Clove as if she had 4 eyes.

"On second thought…"

* * *

Clove and Cato were standing next to their patriots, clad in their God and Goddess costume. Clove was not a fan by any means of the Capitol's theatrics, but she had to admit that she felt powerful in her armor.

Her stylists really did work magic. When she looked in the mirror, she'd seen a goddess-like improvement to her skin and hair. Her skin was completely clear except for her light freckles across her cheeks and nose. It must have been from that strange paste they put on her face to make it sting. Her hair was shiny, healthy and braided down her back in the most perfect French braid. They both had a matching gold band around their heads like Greek Gods. The material was very high quality but didn't weigh too much. District 1's getup was pretty goofy so Clove let the fact that she was a warrior but had jewelry on slide.

In fact, looking around, most of the costumes were pretty bad as it went down.

They mounted their chariot and began their Opening Ceremony. Clove was just taking it all in when all the sudden the crowd got restless for some reason. Her green eyes flitted to the big screen above her to see what the commotion was about.

"What the hell," she heard Cato say.

District 12's stylist must have eaten their Wheaties this morning because the 12 tribute's costume was nothing short of impressive. Their fire suits were taking the attention completely and District 2's tributes weren't happy.

"At least they were last," Cato spat beside her.

Clove wished she'd known about the fire beforehand so she could have lit those two on fire for real before the parade started.


End file.
